


The Psyence of Numb3rs

by DinerGuy



Category: Numb3rs, Psych
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-04
Updated: 2011-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gus goes to Los Angeles for a medical conference, and Shawn decides to tag along. When a bomber targets the hotel, Don Eppes' team heads up the investigation, and Shawn finds himself working with a certain mathematician who doesn't believe in psychics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Let me tell you a story ... Once upon a time, a long time ago (read two and a half years ago), a fic writer named DG was inspired by a challenge on the Psychfic archive to write a fic where Shawn Spencer and Charlie Eppes meet, since Charlie voiced his unbelief in psychics several times. She kept up with the writing for about eight badly-written and rather short chapters, then suddenly quit posting. Her muse had abandoned her and, while she never forgot the fic, she left it languishing in WIP status. Finally, this writer got a brilliant idea for how the mystery should turn out, and she blew the dust off her long-abandoned fic. Sadly, this was the week she had no home internet and hardly any chance to get to the local library or coffee shop. Eventually, she reworked the storyline, edited all she had written so far, and finished up the story. Once she got internet back, she began posting, and everyone lived happily ever after.
> 
> True story. :D
> 
> I'm still not completely happy with the way some portions of this fic turned out. I started it a few years back when I first got into fic-writing, and my writing has immensely improved since then. While I've re-written and re-re-written it several times, some parts still insist on being stubborn and not sounding right. I think it's okay overall, though and I hope you all enjoy the story anyway!
> 
> Disclaimer: Nothing Psych or Numb3rs belongs to me, just the original characters and plot line (and maybe the hotel, since I didn't base it on any real hotel). No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from this.

"And the fun begins!" Shawn exclaimed, climbing out of the little blue car in the hotel parking lot. He took a deep breath and let it out, studying their surroundings with interest.

Shawn's best friend, Gus, got out of the driver's side. "Shawn, you know I'm just here for a medical conference."

Bounding around to the trunk, Shawn pulled out their bags. "That doesn't mean we can't have any fun."

"I still don't see why you decided to come along. You hate conferences."

"Yes, but I haven't had a real vacation in forever, and this is the perfect opportunity," Shawn replied, looking up from the luggage. "Plus, after the seminars are done each day, we can hang out and do all sorts of cool stuff - like finding a place with awesome jerk chicken on the menu." He slung his backpack over his left shoulder and picked up a blue duffel bag with his right hand.

Gus rolled his eyes as he retrieved his suitcase from the pavement beside the car. "Fine. Let's go check in, then I have to get to the first presentation."

Shawn just grinned and headed for the hotel's large front entrance. He'd figure out a way to get Gus away from those stuffy meetings before the day was up.

* * *

A few hours later, Shawn and Gus were seated on the third row from the front of one of the meeting rooms. Gus found it all riveting. Shawn didn't know when he had ever been more bored - not counting math class, of course.

Shawn's notepad was half-covered in doodles of pineapples when the sound of breaking glass suddenly echoed through the room. From a room nearby, someone screamed.

"What's going on?" Shawn asked, jumping up and looking around wildly. His pad fell unheeded to the floor.

"I have no idea," Gus replied worriedly.

No one else in the room seemed to know either. The speaker had paused his lecture, and those closest to the door were already peering into the hall, trying to locate the source of the noises.

An explosion sounded from somewhere in the lower part of the hotel, and the floor began to shake under their feet. Silence reigned for a moment, then every seat was vacated as people began diving under chairs or rushing for the exit.

"Gus! I think that was a bomb!"

"You think? Let's get out of here!" Gus shouted to be heard over the noise of the other occupants of the building.

They ran out of the room and headed for the nearest stairwell. Practically flying down the stairs, they were passed by several firefighters and police officers. When the friends finally made their way through the exit door, several paramedics pulled them over to the makeshift hospital that had been set up.

"We just need to make sure you're all right," one explained.

Shawn noticed a man hovering at the edge of the police barricade. He had a wireless device in his ear, and his hand was hidden in his jacket pocket. Shawn caught the outline of a small rectangular item hidden in the pocket. It wasn't large, and most people were too preoccupied to pay attention to it. The man was checking his watch every few seconds.

"Excuse me a minute," Shawn told the paramedic who was checking him out.

"Sir -"

"I'll be right back; I promise," Shawn told her distractedly. He managed to slip away despite her protests and looked around for a police officer or someone in charge. His gaze was attracted to a couple of FBI agents standing near a van with electrical equipment inside, and he hurried over to them.

One, an attractive woman with light brown skin and curly hair, hurried to intercept him. "Excuse me, sir, but you can't come over here."

"I need to talk to the agent in charge," Shawn insisted. "It's about the bombs."

The other agent who had been standing by the van turned at that. "What did he just say?" the dark-haired man asked.

"I said I need to talk to whoever's in charge about the bombs," Shawn repeated himself. "Nice hair."

"Uh, thank you." The man raised an eyebrow as he continued. "It's all right, Nikki," he nodded to the woman. He turned to Shawn. "I'm Don Eppes. What do you mean 'bombs'? Is there more than one?"

"Yes. See that guy over there?" Shawn turned and motioned with his head towards the man who had caught his attention. "He's going to trigger another bomb soon."

"And you know this how?"

"I'm a psychic," Shawn explained matter-of-factly. "But trust me. I've had a vision that he has a detonator on him."

"You'd better not be wrong." Don gave Shawn a stern look as Nikki nodded to another agent.

As Nikki Betancourt and the second agent disappeared into the mass of chaotic hotel guests, Don put a hand to his ear. "Colby, David, we've gotten information that there may be another bomb in the building."

Not wanting to miss anything, Shawn stayed where he was. Don didn't object, and Shawn was pretty sure it was because the man wanted to keep an eye on him. In a few minutes, Nikki hurried back to join them.

"It was a detonator. We've got the guy, but there's no telling if there are any others."

Don let out a small sigh. "Okay, I want you to search the crowd. Get some help. Let's find anyone else before another bomb goes off."

Satisfied that things were now under control, Shawn started to move away, but Don noticed and stopped him. "Hey, I need you to stay put. I've got some questions for you."

* * *

Gus was starting to get worried. It had been over fifteen minutes since Shawn had left the medical area, and he hadn't come back or called to let his friend know what was going on.

As Gus stepped past the tent to start searching for Shawn, a police officer approached him. "Excuse me, sir, but I'm going to need to ask you a few questions."

"I don't know anything about whatever happened in there," Gus told him. "I was just here for the conference." He began scanning the portion of the crowd that he could see, but Shawn wasn't there, although it was hard to make out anyone in the chaos that surrounded him.

"That may be so, sir, but we still need everyone who was in that hotel to give a statement." The tall, uniformed man reminded Gus of Buzz. "The smallest details may prove helpful."

Sighing, Gus gave in with a nod. He'd just have to look for Shawn later.

* * *

An SUV pulled up beside them, and Don turned back to Shawn. "All right, Mr. Spencer, I'm going to need you to come back to the FBI office for some questioning."

"Okay, sure," Shawn told him, looking excited by the whole situation, "but I need to find my friend. We came together, and he'll be worried sick about me."

"Yeah, sure," Don nodded, opening the car door. "What's his name?"

"Burton Guster." There would be plenty of time for fake names later. Right now, he was more worried about locating his best friend.

Don motioned to one of the officers nearby. "See that Mr. Burton Guster gets to the FBI office."

"Yes sir."


	2. Chapter 2

Shawn had been waiting in an interrogation room for several minutes when a man finally entered.

"Hey there. I'm Agent David Sinclair," the African American agent began. "Mr. Spencer -"

"Shawn is just fine."

"Okay, Shawn. What were you doing at that hotel today?"

Shawn's fingers traced a circle on the table as he met David's gaze. "I was there for the medical conference."

The agent laughed a little at that, surveying Shawn's slumped posture in the chair. "You sure? I can't see you in the medical profession."

"Yeah. It wasn't like I wanted to be there exactly, but my friend Gus was going, and I had nothing better to do this weekend," Shawn shrugged.

As David continued questioning Shawn, Don and another agent watched through the one-way window.

"So, what do you think, Colby? Is this guy on the level?" Don asked, leaning against the small window ledge.

"Seems like it," Colby Granger replied, running a hand through his light brown hair. "I'm thinking he was just a guest at the wrong hotel on the wrong day."

They looked over as Nikki entered the room. She handed Don a folder as she launched into the background check.

"Well, his story checks out. Shawn Spencer from Santa Barbara, runs the Psych Detective Agency with his best friend and partner Burton Guster. According to this, he's got a pretty good case record."

"Hmm," Don mused, flipping through the file.

Colby's attention had been piqued by one of Nikki's points. "You said he's got an impressive case record?"

"Yeah. He's solved all the cases he's ever taken for the SBPD." Nikki studied Colby's face. "What? You thinking we should get him in on the case?"

He shrugged. "Well, it's Don's call, but I'm for it. I don't know if the psychic stuff is real, but it wouldn't hurt to have his help, especially since he was there."

Don looked up. "Okay; well, let's see what David's opinion is and go from there."

As if on cue, David exited the interrogation room and joined the rest of his team.

"What do you think, David?" Don wanted to know.

David looked through the window at Shawn, who was bouncing his leg up and down in impatience as he looked around the room. "He seems all right to me; I don't think he's holding anything back from us, although I can't say I'm totally sure about the psychic part."

Just then, a man poked his head into the room. "Agent Eppes? Just wanted to let you know that Burton Guster has arrived."

"Thanks," Don acknowledged. "Take him to one of the conference rooms for now."

"Got it." The man ducked back out.

"Colby thinks we should let him in on the investigation," Don continued. "Any objections?"

"Not from me. I think it might be good to have some extra help," David replied, his brow furrowing as he looked through the window at Shawn, who was now bent over in his chair, busily studying the underside of the table. "As long as he behaves himself."

"All right. Let's see what he thinks." Don made his way into the room with Shawn, pulling the door closed behind himself. He sat down at the table across from Shawn and leaned forward on his elbows.

"Do you guys have any smoothies around here?" Shawn asked before Don could say anything. He was sitting upright in his chair again, a look of complete innocence on his face. "Pineapple, preferably, but anything'll do."

"Uh, no," Don replied. "I came to ask if you would be interested in helping us out. We've taken a look at your case record with the SBPD and think you'd be a valuable addition to our team for this case."

"Sure," Shawn agreed quickly, eager to become something other than the suspect.

"Great." Don stood. "Let's get some security details taken care of, then we'll get you briefed."

"Does Gus get clearance, too?" Shawn wanted to know, standing to follow Don from the room. "We always work together - sometimes he's the only one who can interpret my visions."

Don paused for a moment. "He's your partner at Psych, right?" At Shawn's nod, he continued. "I think we can do that."

* * *

As Shawn and Gus entered the room where the team was gathered, Shawn glanced around at the security badges. He knew several of the team members already, but there were a few new faces. Smiling, he shook hands all around. "Hello there, I'm Shawn Spencer, psychic detective. Nice to meet you, Colby, Larry, Amita." He gave Amita a smooth, flirty grin as he said her name.

She didn't seem to return the sentiment, at least not as heartily as he had given it, but gave him a polite smile as she shook his hand.

Gus also caught the look Shawn gave Amita and elbowed his friend in the side, directing his own smile her way. "Burton Guster," he introduced, holding out a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Gus," Amita smiled back.

Shawn kicked Gus in the shins, which Gus promptly returned.

"Where's Charlie?" Don asked, giving Shawn and Gus a stern look.

After giving his friend a final smack, Gus quickly stepped over to stand on the other side of Don, putting the agent between himself and Shawn.

"He has a class to finish at the university. He'll be along soon," Larry Fleinhardt replied, taking in the glares shooting between the two friends. "Are you two all right?"

"Yes," they both answered at once.

"Uh-huh," Larry nodded, not looking convinced.

"Larry, Amita, and Charlie are our math team," Don spoke up, looking for a way to bring the consultants' focus back to the situation at hand.

Shawn raised a hand, waving it around like a kindergartener with the correct answer to the teacher's question. "What does math have to do with crime solving?" he asked.

"Well, we all use math every day; to predict weather, to tell time, to handle money," Amita Ramajuan explained. "Math is more than formulas or equations; it's logic, rationality, using your mind to solve day to day problems. We can use math to help solve crimes; for example, by figuring out probable times and locations."

Gus smiled and nodded. Shawn looked like he still needed time to let that soak in.

Just then, the door opened and Charlie Eppes hurried in. "Hey, guys, sorry I'm late. Class ran a little over, and traffic was really bad," the young man apologized as he hurried into the room. He stopped when he saw two unfamiliar men in the group.

"Hey, Charlie," Don greeted the new arrival.

Shawn immediately noticed the similarities in the two men. Even though Don was older, and Charlie had longer, curlier hair, they were definitely brothers.

"I'm sorry; do I know either of you?" Charlie asked, looking between Shawn and Gus.

"We didn't before today," Shawn informed him. "I'm Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner, Wiggly Rattlesnake."

Gus self-consciously cleared his throat. "I apologize. My name's Burton Guster." He quickly extended a hand to Charlie before Shawn could embarrass him further.

Shaking his head and unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile, Charlie returned the handshake. "Professor Charles Eppes. Nice to meet you. So you two are new agents?" he asked, turning to Shawn. His expression said he didn't think Shawn was dressed for the part.

"Actually," Shawn shook the offered hand, "we're -"

"Two special consultants," Don cut in. "They were in town, and we asked them to help out with the case."

"What kind of consultants? Are they mathematicians, too? You already have the three of us," Charlie pointed out, giving his brother an inquisitive look.

"Right. Uh, Charlie, could I talk to you for a minute out in the hall?" Don asked, moving towards the door.

"Yeah, sure …" A confused Charlie let Don lead him out of the room.

"What was that all about?" Gus wondered.

"Yeah, he totally interrupted me," Shawn complained, crossing his arms.

Amita sighed. "I'm afraid Charlie thinks everything can be explained by logic. When someone with your … abilities comes along, Shawn, he has a hard time accepting it."

"What? Oh, you mean my psychic wonders?"

"Yeah," Colby chuckled, joining the conversation. "I think Don would rather tell Charlie himself, and let him work it out in private rather than in front of all of us."

Out in the hallway, Charlie stopped and faced his brother. "Okay, Don, what's going on here? You interrupted Shawn before he could say much and practically dragged me out of there. What's wrong?"

Don ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Charlie, I know you had a little bit of a problem last time someone like this helped us out. Shawn's got … special insights that he can contribute to the case."

"Special insights?" Charlie paused at that. "Wait a second. You're saying he's a psychic, aren't you?"

"Yes, and Gus is his partner. They run a private detective agency in Santa Barbara." Don watched his brother's expression and saw what he'd expected.

"Don, there is no way his stuff is real." Charlie looked back through the doorway to where the others were standing. Shawn looked over and waved. "It's simply illogical to think he has any kind of special powers."

"Charlie, a hotel was bombed this morning. He was able to lead us to a second bomber in the crowd before the guy detonated his explosive. How did he do that if he didn't have something special?"

"Maybe he was in on the plot," Charlie suggested.

"He wasn't. We thought the same thing at first, but he checks out."

Charlie started to protest, but Don held up his hand. "I know this isn't the ideal situation for you, but could you try to put your personal ideas aside just until we solve this and these guys go back to Santa Barbara?" At Charlie's reluctant nod, Don continued, "Now come on. We've got a bombing to solve."

* * *

"Okay, everyone," Don spoke up once the brothers had rejoined the rest of the group. "Let's get started on finding the rest of these bombers. Do we have an I.D. on the guy we arrested?"

"We do." Nikki leaned over and pressed a button on the keyboard. The large screen on the wall lit up with several mug shots of the man. "He's George Armstrong. Been arrested several times before on different charges, most of which have to do with weapons. He's got a record for everything from breaking and entering to assault with a deadly weapon."

"All right, do we know of anyone he works with often? People who might be in on the plot?"

She looked up. "We're working on it. Apparently this guy was a loner most of the time."

"I want to know as soon as we have any more information about that. Now what about the bombs? Did we get anything on them?"

"They were homemade, pretty basic. The kind you can make with ingredients from your local hardware store and a simple how-to manual," David told him. "We've already got people looking into purchases at the area stores, but it's probably not going to yield anything. If they bought everything at once, then yeah, we'll get a lead, but if several people bought separate parts, we'll just be looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Now, we also have Armstrong's cell phone," Amita spoke up. "As soon as we're done here, we can start going through the call records."

"Okay, people, you all know what your jobs are. Let's get busy," Don instructed. As the group dispersed, he turned to Shawn and Gus, who were standing off to the side. "You don't happen to have any insights on anything yet, do you?"

"Hmm, no, sorry," Shawn shrugged as he studied the images on the screen.

Charlie shot Don a look as he walked out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Shawn and Gus wandered around a little before settling down to do their job. It really just involved watching the others work - at least until Shawn was able to piece enough together to either reveal a clue or know where to track down the rest of one. They eventually managed to find their way into the room where Larry, Charlie, and Amita were busy in front of several computers.

"Hey guys. What's up?" Shawn asked, looking at the computer over Amita's shoulder, then dropping into one of the extra chairs as if he owned the place.

"We're working on the list of the bomber's phone contacts," Larry explained, not turning from his screen.

Charlie looked at where Shawn's feet were already propped up on the desk and gave an irritated sigh. "You know, I don't even know why you need to know what we're doing. Other psychics seemed just fine to pop in and out with their little bits of wisdom. They didn't follow us around and pester us."

Shawn pointed a finger at Charlie. "First of all," he paused dramatically, "do you have a smoothie machine?"

Three pairs of eyebrows rose.

"You could probably find one down the street …" Amita started.

"What do smoothies have to do with this case?" Charlie frowned. "This is about a hotel bombing. And unless it was to target their smoothie machine - which I highly doubt - then we don't care about them."

"Fine, fine," Shawn grumbled. "But I haven't followed you around or pestered you. This is the first time since that meeting that we've even spoken."

"That's true," Larry agreed.

"Alright, fine." Charlie turned back to his computer, a frustrated expression knotting his brows.

Amita shook her head in amusement. "Okay," she told Shawn and Gus, "we're trying to find a connection between the people this guy called recently and anyone who could have had anything to do with the bombings: motives, means, anything."

"Any luck?" Gus inquired.

"None yet, though we still have a little ways to go. The phone company gave us his cell records, and we were able to get a list of his home phone calls, too."

Shawn suddenly let out a small shriek and scrunched his eyes shut. He started waving his arms around. "I'm getting something! Something about the bomber … There's a common yarn!"

Don and Colby rushed in, having heard Shawn's yell.

"What in the -" Colby started forward.

"Shh," Gus stopped him. "He's having a vision."

"He's what?" Don ducked as Shawn nearly punched him in the face.

"A common string!"

"About the bomber?" Don continued. "What does string have to do with the case?" He was almost yelling to be heard over Shawn's declarations.

"A common rope!" Shawn continued, jumping around.

Colby moved a mug from the desk just before Shawn's hand flew over the spot.

"Wouldn't the word be thread?" Charlie asked, clearly not impressed in the slightest.

"Yes!" Shawn exclaimed, snapping his eyes open. "There's a common thread throughout all those lists."

Amita turned back and scanned the computer screen again. "We've been through them and seen nothing out of the ordinary."

Shawn smiled at her. "However, my fair Amita, the spirits are saying - nay, strongly indicating that this guy," he pointed to a name on the screen, "is the one you want."

"Hmm." Amita punched a few keys on the keyboard and another screen popped up. The others leaned in closer as she let out a little gasp.

"Looks like you were right, Shawn," Larry mused, looking at the mug shot displayed on the screen.

Shawn grinned. He'd known that Lassiter's wall of suspects would come in handy one day.

* * *

"Where's Shawn?" Charlie asked later that day, looking into the room where Larry and Amita were working.

"Oh, I think they went get something to eat," Larry volunteered without turning from the computer. "I'm telling you, those two are ruled by their stomachs."

"Yeah. That's kind of along the lines of what I wanted to talk to you about. See, Don thinks I should ask Shawn and Gus to join us for pizza tonight."

Larry raised an eyebrow at his friend's tone. "And you don't agree?"

Charlie shrugged. "I'm just getting a little tired of dealing with Shawn's antics. I don't know that I want spend more time with him after work."

"Well, I think it's a great idea." Amita swiveled her chair around. "I think if you got to know each other outside of work, you'd get along better. Give it a try; It'll be fun."

"I agree," Larry nodded. "It'll give you a chance to bond."

Shawn poked his head into the room, interrupting whatever reply Charlie was about to voice. "Hey there, Charles! Glad to see you back."

Gus followed his friend into the room, looking a bit more apprehensive at Shawn's attitude than Shawn himself did. This was sacred ground, and Gus wasn't sure they weren't breaking some rule or protocol somewhere.

"So, um, Shawn …" Charlie began.

"Yes?"

"I'm having Don, Amita, and Larry over to my place tonight for dinner. Would you be interested in coming along?"

Shawn grinned. "Would I? Charlie, you're awesome. Of course we'll come!"

"Are you sure it isn't too much trouble?" Gus was quick to ask.

"We'd love to have you join us," Amita assured him.

"See, Gus, I told you he'd come around eventually," Shawn elbowed his friend.

Something told Charlie this would be a long afternoon.

* * *

"Did you guys find anything on our bombers yet?" Don asked, coming back into the room later in the afternoon. Several of the team were gathered around a table, studying several files. Shawn was there as well, though Gus had decided occupying a chair in the corner of the computer room was a much safer way to spend his afternoon. That way if Shawn got kicked out of the FBI office, he might not have to go with him.

David nodded. "Yeah, we did. As you know, the guy Shawn found in the call records was Thomas Monroe. He's a felon with a large variety of crimes to his record. No outstanding warrants right now, but he's had his fair share of them in the past. We were able to obtain his call records as well and are currently going through them."

"Any luck with that so far?"

"Looks like he's been pretty busy lately," Colby replied. "The calls he's made in the past few days are all to the same five people - all of whom have criminal records."

"So where does that put us?"

"Knowing that they're up to something," Shawn volunteered.

"Right. David, Colby, you two go talk to this Thomas Monroe. See if you can find out anything from him about the case."

"Great." Shawn jumped up from his chair as soon as David and Colby rose from their seats.

Don cleared his throat. "Where do you think you're going?"

Shawn turned, putting on the most well-meaning expression he could manage. "I may be able to divine something if I'm at this guy's house."

"Shawn, this isn't something to take lightly. I mean, if this guy is serious enough to blow up a hotel, he's going to be pretty tough."

Shawn bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently. "I've been involved in big cases before. This might give you the break you've been waiting for." He studied the agent's face. "I'll be with two of your men. Who says I'll be in any danger?"

"I'm okay with it," David spoke up from the doorway. "It's not necessarily dangerous. We're just going ask the guy a few questions."

Don sighed. "Fine. But do whatever they tell you to do, all right?"

"Got it!" Shawn grinned, nearly knocking Charlie over as he bolted through the door.

The mathematician had overheard enough to be concerned. He leveled a look at his brother. "Don, do you really think that was wise?"

"David and Colby will be there. If he behaves himself, he'll be fine."

"Yeah, if."

* * *

"Okay, Monroe lives in 3C," David said, turning to Shawn as Colby parked the car across the street from an older apartment building. "Now, you stay behind us, and do whatever we tell you to, got it?"

"Even if you tell me to jump off the roof?" Shawn asked with a cheeky grin.

"Yes, and if you keep up those jokes, I'm going to do just that," Colby returned.

"What, you didn't like them?" Shawn feigned offense.

"Well, once you got to the thirtieth one, no, I didn't."

The psychic pouted. "Aw, come on. Where's your sense of humor, Grungy?"

David snorted.

Colby's eyebrows went up. "What did you call me?"

Shawn just ignored him and jumped out of the car.

"Help me out, would you?" Colby turned to David with an exasperated sigh.

David grinned and held up his hands. "No way am I getting pulled into this." He started across the street. "If you two want to stay here and fight, fine. I have a suspect to question."


	4. Chapter 4

The door of the apartment stayed closed for a moment after David knocked. He rapped on it again.

"Mr. Monroe? FBI. Open up."

The sound of a deadbolt being undone came through the door, then a face with a heavy dose of blonde stubble came into view.

"Yeah?"

"We're with the FBI. Can we ask you a few questions?" Colby showed his badge.

Monroe shrugged. "Can't imagine why." He pulled the door open all the way.

The two agents and Shawn entered. Shawn's eyes scanned the room, taking in everything. He noticed a pair of muddy work boots in the corner near the front door.

As they walked into the sitting area, they passed Monroe's desk. Shawn's eye landed on a business card with the words "Roger York Construction".

These observations took but a second. Shawn turned to face the others.

Monroe had seated himself in an old yellow chair and crossed his arms. "So, you wanted to talk to me?" he demanded more than asked. His expression was more one of boredom than fear or of being impressed.

"Yeah." David nodded. "Mr. Monroe, what do you know of the Snow Cap Hotel?"

"What, that big ol' fancy one downtown? Not much."

"Okay, how about the medical conference scheduled there this weekend?"

Monroe's face stayed blank. "I had no idea anything was happening."

"A bomb went off there this morning. You have any idea who set it?"

"So, someone finally leveled it, did they?" Monroe laughed. "I know a lot of people had a bone to pick with that there building."

"Why's that?" Colby asked.

He shrugged. "A lot of local workers got passed over for some fancy out-of-town outfit when the hotel went up. They wasn't too happy 'bout it."

"Do you know anyone in particular who would have been able to set a bomb there?"

"None right off. Are you done?"

"Mr. Monroe, please give us a call if you come up with anything." David handed Monroe a card.

"Yeah, sure," the man shrugged.

"We'll be in touch," Colby promised as they rose.

The man's muscled shoulders rose in another shrug. "Well, I ain't got a choice, so fine." He slammed the door behind them with more force than necessary.

The deadbolt relocking clicked behind them as they walked down the hall.

"You surprised me, Shawn," David told him with a small smile. "You actually kept quiet the whole time."

"I was absorbing it all. I'm not always so well-behaved."

"Yeah we've noticed."

Shawn grinned at Colby. "I'll take that as a compliment."

* * *

Back at the office, Don looked up as Colby, David, and Shawn entered. "Any luck?"

David shook his head at his boss. "Not much. Monroe seems to know who it could've been - or at least some possible names - but he wouldn't give them up."

"Do you think he has anything to do with it?" Don asked, setting down the file he had been reading.

"Not sure. There's no reason that we know of yet."

"Okay." Don turned to Shawn. "Did you get anything when you were there?"

"Nothing specific. I did get some buzzing about something, but it was just too vague."

"We may have something," Charlie offered, sending a pointed glare Shawn's way.

"Yeah?" Don turned as his brother joined them. "What's up?"

"Well, we were able to come up with a filtering system to go through the files of the people on Monroe's phone records. The only thing they have in common are the fact that they've all worked in construction, their criminal records, and that they were all arrested around the same time several years ago."

Shawn's memory flashed back to the business card in Monroe's apartment and the work boots in the corner. They were a type commonly used in construction. And that mud …

"Were they arrested together?" Don inquired.

"I wondered that, too, but the arrests were in several different states: California, Oregon, New Mexico, and Utah. However," he continued, "there was a connection we found between the prisons: an employee, James York, transferred between all four during the sentences."

Don's brow rose at that. "Does he work in any of them now?"

"No, actually, he's gone into real estate. He owns the Snow Cap Hotel."

* * *

Less than half an hour later, and David and Nikki were in an interrogation room with James York.

Nikki folded her hands on the tabletop as she launched into their questions. "So, Mr. York, what can you tell me about your hotel? Were you making money on it?"

"Well," the man stuttered, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "yeah, I was. Not a million dollars or anything, but I was making … uh, some."

"You don't know any numbers?"

He shook his head at David's question. "My accountant did all that."

"So you own a hotel but have no idea of your profits?" Nikki asked.

"I just owned it in name. It was a lucky win in a card game is all. I'm not quite cut out for business. I just let everyone else take care of it all."

Nikki raised an eyebrow. "Winning a hotel in a poker game. You must play some pretty high stakes."

"It was more like I won the title to the land. And I don't do it that often; I was just on vacation in Vegas. Anyway, I decided to build a hotel; some associates told me it was a good deal. Honest, I'm not much of a businessman."

"Uh-huh. Let me ask you, Mr. York, how do you feel about the bombs?"

"How …? Well, bad. I mean," he pushed his glasses up again, "I'm glad that no one got hurt and for the insurance, but it's going to be a pain to repair." He looked between the agents. "It made good money, so I don't see why not. I already have someone lined up to start on as soon as you guys let me."

Okay," David spoke up. "Now, I want to ask you something about when you worked in the prisons a few years ago."

James looked surprised but nodded. "Go ahead."

"Did you come into any contact with the prisoners?"

"Some." James nodded. "It's kind of hard to work in a prison and not come into contact with any of the guys there."

"What did you talk about?" David inquired.

"I would just talk, you know," James answered, pushing his glasses up his nose again. "I mean, some of them just wanted a friendly ear."

"Just talked?" Nikki asked.

"Yeah. And I helped some of them find jobs after they got out. Just to be helpful, you know."

"Uh-huh. What sort of jobs?" she prompted.

"Mainly construction. A lot of them had already had jobs in that field before."

Shawn, listening with Don and Colby, perked up at this.

"You getting anything?" Don wanted to know, seeing Shawn's look.

"Oh, um ..." Shawn trailed off and put a hand to his head. He began humming, closing his eyes for a few seconds before popping them open. "James is innocent. Monroe, however ... knows more than he let on. You should question him some more."

Colby nodded. "He definitely seemed to have been hiding something."

"Exactly!" Shawn grinned in satisfaction. "Also, you should look into the local construction companies that were passed over for the job. I'm detecting a slight supernatural vibration that they may have been upset about it. Upset enough to plot for years and finally take it out when they had the chance!"

"It's certainly worth looking into," Don agreed.

* * *

It was already late in the evening, so the agents called it a night, planning to pick the investigation up again in the morning, starting with questioning Monroe again. Less than an hour later, Shawn and Gus were on the doorstep of a house in a quiet Los Angeles neighborhood. Shawn's knock was answered by an older man.

"You must be Shawn and Gus," the man smiled. He offered his hand in greeting. "Alan Eppes. Why don't you boys come in? The others haven't arrived yet."

"Thank you," Gus returned the smile.

Once the trio had taken seats in the living room, Alan turned to Shawn. "So, Charlie said you were a psychic?"

"Yes, I am."

"And you work with the Santa Barbara police?" Alan asked. "How'd you get involved with this investigation? Charlie wasn't all that specific on the phone."

"Well, Gus here was attending the medical conference at the hotel, and I came along for fun. When the bomb went off, I had a vision about another bomb and stopped another explosion."

"You helped stop the explosion, Shawn," Gus corrected. "You had a vision and pointed Don and Nikki in the right direction."

"But that stopped the explosion," Shawn persisted, not taking Gus' hint.

Alan interrupted their bickering. "Wouldn't that have made you a suspect?"

"It did, but he was cleared," Gus replied, shooting Shawn a stern look. "With our record at the SBPD, we were asked to help out."

Shawn just ignored him and continued to fiddle with the throw pillow he had pulled onto his lap.

"Ah." Alan nodded. His brow furrowed. "You were staying at the hotel?"

Gus nodded. "We were, but now we'll be putting up at another one - at least for tonight."

"Hmm. You know, that's not really all that necessary."

Shawn cocked his head to the side. "Are you inviting us to stay here?"

"Why not? There's enough room, and it'll keep you from having to go through the trouble of finding another place so late in the day."

"What about -" Gus began to protest.

"Thanks!" Shawn accepted. "We'd be happy to."

Gus opened his mouth to voice his concerns again but was interrupted for the second time by the front door opening.

"Hello? Dad?"

"In here, Don," Alan called back.

"Oh, hi, Shawn, Burton. I didn't realize you two had beat us here," Larry greeted as he entered with Don.

"Where's Charlie?" Alan asked.

"He and Amita stopped off at the store for drinks on the way," Don told his father.

"Good. The pizza should be here any minute."

"I see you three had a chance to get acquainted," Larry noted.

"Your dad's great, Don," Shawn spoke up. "Very hospitable."

"Shawn -" Gus was again interrupted, this time by the doorbell.

"Ah, pizza's here." Alan rose from his seat.

Charlie and Amita arrived a few minutes later, and everyone moved into the dining area. There were a few moments of silence while everyone served themselves, but the conversation soon started up again.

"So," Amita turned to Gus and Shawn, "are you going to be back at the FBI tomorrow?"

"Of course," Gus assured her. "We're planning to stick around for the rest of the investigation to help however we can."

"Glad to hear that," Don joined the conversation. "You know what time to be there?"

"Yeah," Shawn replied, starting in on another slice. "But even if not, we could always just wait and leave when Charlie does."

There was a confused pause shared between four of the room's occupants.

"How would you know -" Charlie began. His eyes widened slightly as realization dawned on him. "Dad, you didn't …"

* * *

"Shawn, that was bad, even for you!" Gus scolded later that night. The two were settling into the guestrooms for the night - or at least Gus was. Shawn had simply dumped his bag on the floor and joined his friend.

"What?" he asked, crossing his legs underneath himself on the bed.

"You know what I mean. You and Charlie don't exactly get along, and you accepted to stay here for the night?"

"I couldn't disappoint Alan! Besides, you're the one who's always saying we need to cut back on our expenses."

"Don't put this on me, Shawn! The 'expenses' I mean are all those extra things you buy for our office."

"Those are fun!"

"Exactly; they're unnecessary for the management of our agency," Gus frowned.

"Are you hungry?"

"Have you even been paying attention to our conversation? And, no, we just had dinner less than two hours ago."

Shawn shrugged. "Well, I am. Let's go find something."

"You're not going to bug our hosts, are you?"

"Not necessarily."

"Shawn, don't you dare give Charlie another reason to kick us out!" Gus called after his friend.

Shawn just ignored him. Downstairs, he started rummaging through the cabinets. Charlie walked into the kitchen but stopped short at the sight before him.

Shawn had heard him come in and turned with a grin. "Hey, Chuck! What's up?"

"Don't call me Chuck," Charlie corrected. "And what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? Trying to find a snack."

"You're hungry? Didn't you get enough pizza?"

"I did then. But not now." Shawn shut the fridge. "You don't have any pineapple," he stated matter-of-factly.

"What …? No, I don't. Why does that matter?"

"Are you kidding, Chuckie? Pineapple is awesome!"

" I already have a nickname," Charlie corrected in frustration. "Charlie is short for Charles." He reached past Shawn, pulled a few ice cream bars from the freezer, and exited the room.

Shawn followed on his heels. "Could you go get some? I'd drive, but I don't have a car."

"What about Gus?"

"He's busy." Shawn shrugged.

"Yeah, well, so am I. I have work to do." Charlie opened the door to the garage, where several chalk boards were hanging. Various equations and number systems took up the green space.

Shawn's eyes widened. "Wow. That's a lot of math. You actually do this in your spare time? Like, for fun?"

"Yes, I do. Is that a problem for you?" Charlie responded. "But this is for the FBI."

Shrugging his shoulders, Shawn grinned and turned to Larry and Amita. "Hey, either of you two free?"

Charlie sighed and picked up a piece of chalk. "They're working with me."

"I don't suppose you'd want to take a break for a little trip to the store?" Shawn looked around hopefully.

"As much as that sounds like fun, I'll have to say no," Larry replied in a voice that clearly said he'd much rather stay where he was.

Amita just smiled and shook her head, unwrapping her ice cream. "Sorry, Shawn, but we have to work this out for the case. We can't put off federal business."

"Fine." Shawn muttered, retreating back into the house. "Have fun with your algebra."

"It's actually higher than that," Larry called after him.

Wandering through the house, Shawn finally found Alan and Don intent on a pool game.

"Hi, guys," Shawn greeted them.

"Hey there, Shawn," Alan responded.

Don didn't say anything until he'd finished his shot. He winced as the ball bounced off the side without hitting any others.

"Are either of you interested in going to the store?" Shawn asked, trying to sound as polite as possible.

"Why?" Alan studied the balls as he lined up his shot.

"For snacks."

"Charlie has plenty in the kitchen," Don said.

"Not enough," Shawn protested. "There's no pineapple!"

"Pineapple?"

"Yes, pineapple. Has no one around here heard of it?"

Alan chuckled. "Yes, we've heard of it. We just don't have any."

"Why don't you go yourself?" Don asked.

"I don't have a car, and Gus got mad the last time I stole his."

"Sorry, Shawn," Alan smiled apologetically. "I guess you'll just have to find something else."

Sighing, Shawn returned to Gus' room. It was going to be a long night. How was he ever going to survive it without his favorite fruit?


	5. Chapter 5

Much to Gus's relieved amazement, the night passed without any major incidents. The first sign that Shawn was up to something came shortly after they arrived at FBI headquarters.

In response to Don's question of if they were interested in accompanying the agents to bring Monroe in for questioning, Shawn offered a grin. "Actually, Gus and I managed to find a great smoothie place down the road. We'll be back a little later." He shrugged. "Since the spirits are being a little withholding right now, I wouldn't want to be in your way any more than necessary. I'll be sure to let you know if I come up with anything."

Charlie looked visibly relieved as he gave the two consultants a friendly smile. "Well, I guess we'll catch up with you later then."

"All right." Don's expression told Shawn he suspected something might be up. The agent didn't say anything, however, but simply nodded.

"We'll meet you guys back here after lunch," Shawn told them.

Gus turned to Shawn as soon as the elevator doors closed. "Shawn, what are you doing? We can't just bail on a case like this!"

"But we're not, Gus," Shawn said. "We're going to hunt down some clues on our own, just like when we work a case back home. After we get smoothies at that place down the road, of course."

"You mean like when we go off by ourselves, nearly get killed, and get Lassiter ticked at us?"

"No, I mean when we solve the case on our own and call in the cavalry at the last minute to make the arrest."

Gus shook his head as the elevator doors opened, and the two made their way out to the car. "Do you have a plan, or are we just going to run around the city until we find something interesting?"

"As much as that second option sounds like fun, I actually do have what might be a lead."

"And why couldn't you share it with Don?" Gus asked, unlocking the car.

Shawn opened the passenger door and climbed in. "I'm not sure if this will even turn up anything. I didn't want to take up his time if it wasn't going to be more than a hunch."

"And are you planning to share this hunch with me?" Gus asked expectantly.

Shawn appeared to be thinking it over.

"Shawn!"

"Gus, don't be an overdone turkey on Thanksgiving Day. We're going to Roger York's current construction site to ask him a few questions." Shawn pointed ahead. "Take a right here."

Gus raised an eyebrow but took the turn. "And you know where this site is how?"

"The internet is a wonderful place, Gus, full of amazing and sometimes worthless facts. A lot like your head. Left here."

* * *

Meanwhile, the agents had brought Thomas Monroe down to the office for questioning. The man was even surlier than when David, Colby, and Shawn had questioned him in his home the day before. He was sitting with his arms crossed, glowering at Don and Nikki.

"Is there a reason I'm down here or what? I don't remember being told I was a person of interest or whatever you call it."

"We just have a few questions for you, Mr. Monroe. It shouldn't take very long," Don told him, "if you cooperate."

"Fine. What do you want?"

"How well do you know James York?" Nikki inquired.

"The guy who owns the hotel? Not all that well. Why?"

"Just curious." Don told him, giving him a prompting look.

"Well, I know of him. Just don't know him."

"And you work for his brother?" Don continued, studying a file in his hands. "At least according to your tax forms."

"Yeah, I'm a personnel manager for Roger's construction company. What of it?"

"So you are aware that most of his employees are ex-cons?"

"So?" Monroe narrowed his eyes at Nikki's question. "Not all ex-cons are bad guys. Look, James would send various felons to work for Roger's company once they got out of jail. They needed good employment to keep them from going back, and Roger didn't mind because they're hard workers." He sat back in his chair. "Can I go now?"

* * *

Within an hour, Shawn and Gus were pulling up beside the trailer that served as the office for Roger York Construction's current project.

"Because Gus," Shawn was saying as they exited the vehicle, "I don't think Monroe is as completely involved in the bombing as it might look at head value."

"Face value," Gus corrected. "And I don't even think that expression works in the way you're trying to use it."

Shawn shrugged. "I've heard it both ways. But, either way, let's see what Mr. Roger York has to say."

They climbed the couple of steps and Shawn cracked open the door, rapping on it as he did so.

The two men bent over the set of blueprints on the desk in the center of the room turned as Shawn and Gus entered.

"Can I help you?" The man who had asked the question was a dark-haired version of James York, minus the glasses.

"Yes, you can," Shawn answered, giving both men his best smile. "I'm Shawn Spencer and this is my partner, House Jackbuilt. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your brother's hotel."

Roger nodded then turned to the other man. "Will you excuse us for a few moments, Rick? I'll be out soon."

After Rick had exited the trailer, Roger gave Shawn and Gus a polite smile. "I can't believe it about the bombing. Are you two with the police?"

"FBI, actually," Shawn offered. "That's the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"I know what FBI stands for," Roger told him, sitting back on the edge of the desk. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"I just was wondering where you were at the time of the bombing," Shawn said curiously. "The site looks busy; were you working here?"

"No, I wasn't," Roger shook his head. "I was having lunch. With my brother, actually. That's how I first heard about it."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? That's interesting. So you two are really buddy-buddy then, are you?"

"Something like that." Shawn couldn't help but notice the brief shadow that crossed the man's face as he answered. "Now are you two done? I've got a job to get back to."

"Of course. Thank you for your time," Gus told him.

"Something's going on with him," Shawn whispered as he followed his friend out the trailer door. "I don't think he and James have as perfect a relationship as he made it sound." He stepped aside to allow an attractive young woman to pass them on the gravel path to the parking lot. "Hi there."

"Hi," she replied, returning his smile. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Yes you can. Ow!" Shawn glared at Gus as his friend's elbow found his ribs. "I'm Shawn. Are you Roger York's assistant by any chance?"

"Wanda. And I'm just helping out," she told him, "Roger's my uncle, and sometimes he asks me to run errands and stuff, like getting lunch." She waved the paper bag in her hands.

"Ah, right," Shawn nodded. "Say, let me ask you. Your uncle, do you know if he gets along with everyone? Like his brother, for instance?"

"Which one?" she asked.

Shawn blinked. "Um … any of them?"

The girl laughed. "Well, he only has two; my father and their brother, James. And he gets along fine with Dad. Uncle James though … They have their differences. Like, Uncle Roger was going to build Uncle James' hotel when it went up, but then I think several of his investment buddies recommended he use another outfit, which really made Uncle Roger mad."

"Really?" Shawn raised an eyebrow. "Do they fight much?"

Wanda paused and frowned at him. "Why the interest in my family?"

"We're reporters," Gus spoke up.

Shawn blinked. "Okay, yeah. Anyway, do you know how their relationship is?"

"I … really need to get this food in before it gets cold," Wanda told him. "I'm sorry. Have a good day." She turned and hurried up the steps to the trailer.

"Reporters? Really buddy?" Shawn asked as they started towards the car again.

"Why not?" Gus defended himself.

"How many people do you know would want to talk about their family to a reporter?"

"I didn't see you offering anything better." Gus unlocked the doors. "Now where is your hunch taking us? And am I going to be allowed to know what it is, seeing as how I'm doing all the driving?"

* * *

The agents were again in the interrogation room, this time with Philip Knowles, the owner of one of the local construction companies that had almost obtained James York's contract, in for questioning. Knowles was a short, balding, red-haired man in his late forties whose waistline appeared to have seen one too many donuts in its day. Certainly not the image one would imagine when they heard construction company owner.

Knowles was slouched in one of the chairs in the interrogation room when Don walked in. He looked up with a sullen expression.

"How long's this gonna take? I got a job to get back to."

Don settled into the chair on the opposite side of the table and set a manila folder in front of him before addressing the other man. "We just have a few questions for you regarding the recent bombing of the Snow Cap Hotel."

"Huh," Knowles snorted. "You think I did that?"

"No one's accusing you of anything yet," Don opened the folder. Pulling out several photos, he placed them in front of Knowles. "This is what the hotel looked like after this man," he put Armstrong's mugshot on the table, "set off a bomb inside."

Knowles jerked his shoulder in a shrug. "I dunno who that guy is. And I didn't have nothin' to do with no bombs. Why would I do that?"

"You tell me," Don replied, sitting back and folding his arms across his chest.

"Look, I don't know. I was real mad at first about York taking the job away from the locals, but then I decided I didn't care. Yeah, he was an idiot who probably deserved what happened to his place, but I wouldn't wanna do anything to him. Ya think I'd wanna make myself a suspect? I know how these investigation things work. 'Sides, what'd it do for me? York probably'll just bring in another cheap out group to rebuild the thing."

"Mr. Knowles, have you ever met this man before?" Don asked, gesturing to Armstrong's photo.

Knowles glanced down. "Nope. Are we done? Time is money, especially in my business."

"Thank you for your time," Don replied, standing. "You're free to go; we'll let you know if we have any further questions."


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Gus asked, stepping out of the Blueberry.

"Yes, Gus," Shawn nodded. He took another sip of his smoothie as he looked up at the high-rise apartment building. "This is the address where I'm sensing we'll find James York."

His friend, who was toting an identical paper cup, gave him a look. "You don't sense things, Shawn. You and I both know that," he told him as he pitched his empty cup into the trash can outside the building.

"Whatever, party-pooper," Shawn shot back, disposing of his cup as well. "Yes, I may have seen it on a file in the office, but I can tell you with ninety-eight point seven percent certainty that this is where we'll find the younger Mr. York."

Shawn gave the doorman a friendly smile as the two friends made their way inside and to the elevator.

"Nice place," Gus observed, looking around the ornate foyer in admiration as they waited for the elevator doors to open.

"Very," Shawn agreed. "Ooh, look, those banisters are perfect for races! We'll have to take the stairs back down after we're done."

Gus gave him a look that was a mixture of horror and indignation as the elevator arrived on the ground floor, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard his friend's comment.

"Okay, maybe not," Shawn frowned. "Either way, you have to admit they look like fun."

"I don't have to do any such thing." Gus turned his back and strode into the waiting elevator.

They got off at the fifth floor and made their way down the quiet, well-lit hallway to James York's apartment.

James answered the door on the second knock. He looked between the two men on his doorstep and blinked in that confused way people do when they're trying to place a face that looks familiar. "Do I know either of you?"

"I don't believe so. My name is Shawn Spencer and this is my associate -"

"Burton Guster," Gus interrupted, extending a hand in greeting and ignoring Shawn's glare.

James shook Gus' hand. "Didn't I see you gentlemen at the FBI office yesterday?"

"Um, yes, yes you did," Shawn nodded. "We just have a few follow-up questions for you."

"Well then. Uh, won't you come in?" James stepped aside.

"We're fine. It'll just take a moment," Gus assured him.

"Mr. York, we heard you and your brother Roger were out at lunch when the bomb went off at your hotel," Shawn told him. "Is that true?"

"It is," James nodded. "Roger called me up that morning and asked if we could do lunch. I was a little surprised since we …. hadn't been on the best of terms recently."

Shawn raised an eyebrow. "So it was your brother's idea?"

"Mhmm. And he was really insistent that it had to be that afternoon, too. I didn't mind though; it was nice to finally get together with him without us fighting."

"So you would say your relationship is much better now?" Gus inquired.

"Well, we still have our ups and downs, but things are much friendlier between us." A phone rang from somewhere behind James. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get that," he told them.

"Of course. Thank you for your time," Gus nodded.

"One more quick question!" Shawn interrupted. "Do you know who is going to be doing the repair work on the hotel for you?"

"Probably my brother. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to answer my phone." James quickly shut the door.

Shawn smacked Gus on the arm. "Buddy! I think I know what happened! Roger York was upset with his brother for whatever reason, including the fact that his brother had used a different construction company to build his hotel. He waited and waited and plotted and plotted and finally came up with the perfect plan. Ooh! We have to get back to the office so I can have a vision for Don!" He hurried to push the down button on the elevator, then turned back to Gus with an excited look.

"Anyway, so Roger decides to have one of his ex-con employees bomb the hotel while he's at lunch with his brother. Perfect alibi and he can then profit from it if James decides to have him repair the place for him!"

"It would make sense," Gus nodded. "Only, we don't have any proof."

"Since when have I needed proof to have a vision?"

* * *

"Gus! Gus, that's Monroe!" Shawn exclaimed from the passenger seat. They were passing a small, corner convenience store a few blocks from the FBI office, and Shawn was pointing at a figure entering the front door. "Gus! Pull over!"

"There's nowhere to park, Shawn."

"Then let me out and go find somewhere," Shawn insisted. "Come on; it might be important!"

"You don't know that, Shawn."

"I have a feeling, okay? Just stop for a second."

Gus sighed. "All right, fine. But you'd better not make a scene in there because I am not coming to your rescue if you get into any trouble."

"I promise," Shawn told him, opening his door as Gus braked to a halt.

Several horns blared behind them as Shawn jumped out of the passenger side of the car. He hurried towards the convenience store as Gus pulled away.

Monroe had already disappeared inside, so Shawn quickly pulled the door open and entered. The store was fairly empty. The bored-looking clerk behind the counter barely looked up as the bell rang before she went back to flipping through a tabloid magazine. The only other customers were a pair of young teens in the snack aisle.

Shawn glanced around for any sign of Monroe. The man was nowhere to be seen, but the swinging door to the back room was still slightly moving. With a glance at the clerk, Shawn made his way over to the door; she still appeared absorbed in her magazine, so Shawn pushed through it quickly.

The back room was eerily quiet, but Shawn caught sight of Monroe disappearing through the exit door. With another glance around the empty room, Shawn followed him.

* * *

It had taken Gus a few minutes to find an empty parking place on the block, and he was definitely going to give Shawn some grief about making him walk so far over a gut feeling. They needed to get back to the office and let Don know about what they had uncovered that morning.

When he entered the convenience store, there was no one in sight besides the clerk behind the counter. Neither his friend nor Monroe were anywhere to be found.

Gus sighed and made his way up to the counter. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my friend. He came in here a few minutes ago."

The middle-aged woman, whose nametag identified her as Paulina, looked up from her magazine. "Honey, it ain't my job to watch anyone," she told him, smacking her gum.

"So you didn't see any men about my age come in here within the last five minutes?" Gus pressed. "My friend was wearing a green polo and jeans."

The woman didn't seem very happy with the interruption in her reading. "I mighta seen him. He headed towards the back, but I don't think he'da gone in our back room, since he doesn't work here."

"Okay, thanks. I'll, uh, I'll check the restrooms," Gus told her.

She just shrugged and flipped the page.

Gus headed towards the back of the store, a sinking feeling developing in his stomach. It would be just like Shawn to follow someone into an employees only area. With a glance at the clerk, Gus pushed through the door into the back room.

"Shawn? Shawn, you'd better not be hiding back here, because if you jump out at me, I will kill you."

There was no answer, but Gus' attention was drawn to the store's back door, which was hanging ajar, moving slightly as a wind pushed against it.

"Shawn," Gus groaned. He headed towards the door, just planning to glance around the alley to make sure his friend wasn't out there.

No one was in sight, and Gus was just about to turn back inside when a patch of green caught his eye. Gus' heart dropped into his stomach as he looked closer.

Shawn's iPhone was lying on the concrete next to the dumpster, but Shawn was nowhere to be found.


	7. Chapter 7

His head hurt.

That was the first thought that entered Shawn's pounding head when he came to. He didn't want to open his eyes; the darkness seemed much more inviting. But as things began to come back to him, he groaned and opened his eyes.

He found himself lying facedown on a hard concrete floor. His mouth was covered with a wide piece of duct tape and his hands were securely tied behind his back. A quick attempt to move his feet confirmed that his ankles had also been secured.

His head was still pounding, and Shawn groaned, closing his eyes in an attempt to relieve the pressure.

In the short glance he had taken of his surroundings, he had noticed that he seemed to be in a construction site of some sort, as the walls of the room in which he was being held were made of concrete and plywood. Several sawhorses took up space in the room, as well as various equipment and crates of supplies and toolboxes.

No one else had been in the room, but several voices were coming from the other room. Shawn lay quietly, attempting to make out what they were saying. He couldn't make out any specific words, as the men were talking too low, but he recognized the voices.

Thomas Monroe was no surprise; Shawn had followed the man out into the alley. The second voice wasn't either, both because Shawn had also seen him in the alley and because of his theory about the case.

As Shawn was turning over various plans in his mind, contemplating how best to either escape or convince the men to let him go, another voice joined the others. The men's voices rose as they began arguing, and Shawn blinked in surprise.

He had certainly not expected this turn of events.

* * *

"So you didn't see anything?" Colby asked.

Paulina raised an eyebrow. "I told you already. No. I saw some guy go past towards the bathrooms, then another guy, then that guy," she nodded her head towards Gus, who was standing beside Colby, "came in asking about his friend. I didn't pay them much attention."

Colby nodded. "Right. Well, thanks for your help."

"And when are you people going to be done with my security footage?" she demanded. "I have a store to run."

"I can see that," Colby remarked dryly. "We'll let you know."

"Whatever," she sighed.

"Did you find anything?" Gus asked as David emerged from the back room.

The agent motioned to Gus and Colby. "You guys might want to see this," he told them before ducking back through the door.

Charlie was sitting at a small desk in the back room, his laptop occupying one side of the desk and another screen replaying the security footage occupying the other side. Various wires ran between the two devices.

Don was standing beside his brother's chair, and he turned as the others joined him.

"What happened to Shawn?" Gus asked. The sinking feeling that had started in his stomach when he found Shawn's phone had been slowly growing, and now it felt like it was occupying his entire insides.

"It looks like we were on the right track with Monroe," Don told him, his face grim.

Gus leaned over Charlie's shoulder. The screen displayed what looked like the footage from a security camera in the alley behind the store. Monroe was aiming a gun at Shawn, who had his hands to the sides. The angle of the camera didn't show Shawn's face, but Gus was pretty sure his friend was attempting to talk his way out of the situation.

Charlie hit a button and the footage began running again. Gus swallowed hard as a figure in a hoodie stepped out of the doorway behind Shawn, a crowbar in hand. Almost before Gus could blink, the man had knocked Shawn out cold. Then Monroe and the stranger picked up the limp form and moved around the other side of a van that had been parked on the side of the alley.

"Please tell me we know who the other guy is," Gus said, his voice low.

Charlie shook his head. "I can't get a camera angle that shows it. He's got the hood pulled over too far; his face is too shadowed to run through facial identification." He turned to his computer and entered a few commands. "I'm working on tracing their van though."

"But the plate was muddy," Gus pointed out, trying to ignore the voice in his head that was telling him he might not see Shawn again.

"I know; we can't get anything from the plate itself, but I've got a program running through security and traffic camera footage around this area. If it finds a match on the van, I'll know."

"Gus," Don spoke up, "what were you and Shawn doing down here anyway? I thought you were going to get smoothies. Why are we now looking into Shawn being kidnapped while following Thomas Monroe?"

Gus sighed and launched into an explanation. "Well, Shawn had a vision that the case had something to do with the relationship between the York brothers."

* * *

"What is this I hear about us having a prisoner?" James York demanded.

"Calm down," Roger instructed.

"No, I will not calm down! This was supposed to be a simple insurance scam. Nothing else. And now, thanks to you, it's turned into a three ring circus!"

"Don't you dare blame me," Roger insisted.

"Hey!" Monroe protested. "Don't look at me. I was just following orders."

"Shut up, Monroe," Roger growled. "This guy was poking his nose in too deeply; he was only a few clues away from figuring out our plan, if he hasn't already. And we had no choice, especially once he showed up following Monroe through that alley. Besides, you're the one who told me on the phone that we needed to do something about the nosy investigators."

As the men continued to argue, Shawn was working on the ropes that tied his wrists together. Whoever had done the tying had apparently been in a rush, and he felt a little slack. If he had enough time, he might be able to get free.

The voices rose in the other room again. "Fine. All right! But now we have to figure out what we're doing with him."

"Don't worry about that," Roger said. "No one will ever find him. I think we're supposed to be laying a new foundation later this afternoon anyway, aren't we, Monroe?"

Shawn swallowed and pulled harder on his bonds, ignoring the blood that was beginning to trickle from his raw wrists as the rough fibers bit into his skin. Things were not sounding good.

* * *

"I've got it!" Charlie's announcement brought the others around his chair again. "The van pulled into a construction site about ten minutes from here …" He trailed off as he pulled up another screen "And guess who is managing the construction work there?"

"Roger York Construction," Don read off the screen. "Good work, Charlie. Let's go."

* * *

The men's voices had dropped again, and Shawn was getting worried that they would be pushing through the plastic sheeting covering the doorway any second.

He finally managed to pull his right hand free from the ropes and, leaving the slack dangling on his left, quickly worked on untying his feet. As soon as they were free, he scrambled behind the largest pieces of equipment in the room. Gus would probably know what it was called, but Shawn didn't really care as long as it afforded him enough cover.

He grimaced as he pulled the tape off his mouth, massaging his face with his hand after it was off, and tossed the rest of the ropes to the side.

Shadows appeared on the other side of the plastic over the doorway, and Shawn looked around for some sort of weapon. His eyes lit on a tool chest, but it was on the other side of the room. He shot another look at the shadows and saw a hand begin to pull at the covering, but before the man could move any farther, there was a sudden commotion in the other room that sounded like someone had knocked over an entire cabinet of tools.

"Watch it!" someone snapped.

"Sorry," a new voice panted. This one didn't sound familiar to Shawn, and he cocked his head as he concentrated on what was going on on the other side of the wall.

"What's your rush, Walter?"

"There's a bunch of FBI agents headed this way," Walter panted. "I thought you'd want to know."

"Seriously?" James yelled. "See, this is what happens when you kidnap federal agents," he snapped at the others.

Shawn wanted to point out that he wasn't technically a federal agent but then thought better of calling attention to himself. He needed to figure out what to do quickly because things seemed like they were going to get ugly pretty quickly.

"You got your gun, Walter?" Roger asked. Shawn assumed the other man had nodded because Roger continued, "Good. Get over near the entrance and don't let them get in. Monroe, you go with him."

Shawn heard the sound of several handguns racking, then two sets of footsteps faded as Monroe and Walter exited the room.

"You're planning to shoot your way out of this one?" James asked his brother. "I don't think that's going to work; they probably have an entire vanload of agents armed to the teeth."

"I was thinking more along the lines of letting Monroe and Walter hold them off long enough for us to get out the back. Come on; if we go now, we should be able to get down the scaffolding without being spotted."

"What about  _him_?"

Shawn had heard enough. He grabbed a two by four from a nearby workbench and pushed aside the plastic over the door. He wasn't exactly sure what he planned to do, exactly, but he figured he should at least try to keep the Yorks from fleeing until the FBI agents could get there.

* * *

Don, David, Nikki and Colby made their way through the half-finished building as silently as they could, their guns at the ready. They didn't know how many other men were in the building besides the two who had been at the door, and they weren't taking any chances.

Gus had agreed to wait with Charlie in the SUV in the parking lot only after Don promised to radio him as soon as they found Shawn.

The agents cleared each room as they passed it, making their way towards the stairs and hopefully closer to Shawn and anyone else still in the building.

* * *

The plastic crinkled as Shawn moved it, and Roger and James spun, both bringing their guns to bear on the figure behind them.

"You!" Roger's eyes widened slightly.

"I knew you'd mess things up somehow," James snapped at his brother. "You never can just do a job right, can you?"

Roger's eyes narrowed. "Oh no. You aren't going to put this one on me. You had more chance to misdirect the investigation than I did. After all, it was your hotel and your stupid idea."

Shawn looked between the two men, shifting his grip on the board. Before he could decide what to do next, the sound of gunfire echoed through the building.

James lifted his gun so it was aimed at Shawn's head. "I say we just get rid of him now and leave while we still can." He looked desperate enough to pull the trigger.

"Okay now, just hold on a minute," Shawn started.

"No you hold on!" James exclaimed.

"Whoa, James, just take it easy," Roger told his brother. "He can't help us if he's dead."

"Do you have a better idea?" James demanded.

"Please say yes," Shawn added.

Roger nodded, putting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "He's going to be our ticket out of here. Just put the gun down and I'll take care of things."

"You sure?" James glanced sideways at Roger as he slowly lowered his weapon.

"I'm sure."

Shawn didn't wait around to find out how Roger planned to take care of things. He had already noticed the FBI team making their way down the hallway outside the door and decided to make his move while both brothers had their guns more or less pointed away from him. In one motion, he threw the board in his hands at James while diving for a large tool chest a few feet away at the same time.

Multiple bullets hit the concrete around Shawn as he scrambled behind the cover the chest afforded, barely paying attention to the stinging pain in his arm. Several more shots pinged off the metal container as he huddled behind it.

* * *

The team rushed into the room, their weapons raised and covering the two men who were firing at a tool chest in the corner of the room.

"FBI! Put your hands up now!"

"Put the weapons down!"

Both York brothers froze at the agents' shouts.

"Put the guns down and get on your knees! Now!" Don ordered.

James did as instructed, quickly dropping the pistol in his hands, but Roger simply tightened his grip on his weapon.

"Don't do it!" Colby shouted.

The others had also spotted the man's movement, and Don aimed his own weapon at the other man. "Drop it now!"

Shawn scrambled out from behind the tool chest as Roger dropped his gun and got to his knees beside his brother. "Man, I thought you guys would never get here."

"Shawn! Are you all right?" David asked, looking the other man over. His eyes lit on the now-red sleeve of Shawn's polo.

"I'm fine," Shawn assured him. "It's just a scratch; I think the bullet just nicked me. But that was awesome! It was just like in the movies, only better because it was real life."

Colby raised an eyebrow at him. "You almost got yourself killed."

Shawn shrugged. "But I didn't."

"Shawn!" Gus rushed into the room. "Shawn, don't you ever do that to me again."

"Aw, Gus, glad to know you care about me so much," Shawn ribbed, then winced as his friend punched him in the arm. "Hey! Watch it; I just got held hostage and shot."

"Shot?" Gus gulped.

"Well, more like grazed." Shawn showed him.

Gus swallowed hard. "Uh-huh."

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Shawn put a hand to his head. "I'm getting something! Gus, I'm getting something!" he exclaimed, squeezing his eyes shut. He cracked them open to make sure the others were watching, then shut them again and continued. "James most certainly knew what his hotel was making and it wasn't making as much money as he needed to cover his gambling debts and still make a living."

James shifted uneasily, which Shawn took as encouragement to continue.

"You two worked together to bomb the hotel, didn't you? James came to you, Roger, for advice, and you decided you could use your employees' expertise in the explosives field in a very profitable way. Originally, the whole thing was supposed to have come down, wasn't it? Then James could have collected on the insurance, but your plans had to change when only one of your bombs went off. Between the investigation and everything else, there was no way you could finish the job, and it would just seem silly to demolish the entire building for what little damage happened. You figured you'd just keep the story that you're going to be repairing it until you figure out what to do."

"You don't have any proof!"

"Shut up, James," Roger growled.

Don raised an eyebrow as he looked between the two of them. "It sounds like a plausible explanation to me. I'm sure we'll be able to find information in your financials that back it up."

* * *

"You boys sure you can't stay any longer?" Alan asked. "It was great having you here."

"Yeah," Don nodded, setting down the bag he was carrying beside Gus' car. "We really appreciated the help on the case."

Gus shook his head. "We've got to get back to Santa Barbara. My boss only let me have the week off for the conference; I need to get back to work."

"I really have no objections to staying, but Gus gets lonely if I stay away too long," Shawn explained. He ignored Gus' glare and stepped to the other side of Alan, making sure the older man was between the two of them.

Charlie shook his head in amusement. "It was nice to meet you both."

"Thanks for letting us stay at your house," Gus told him, extending a hand.

"No problem," Charlie replied, shaking the outstretched hand. "Be sure and call us up if you're ever in LA again."

"Will do, Chuckie boy," Shawn grinned. "And I'll make sure to bring my own pineapple next time."

"Uh, I think we'll still have some of what you bought this time, even if you come next year," Alan assured him with a grin.

"Thanks again." Shawn also shook hands all around, then jumped in the passenger seat. "Santa Barbara, ho!" he announced.

Gus rolled his eyes. "Shawn, I am not getting in the same car with you if you're going to reenact Oregon Trail again."

"Yes you are, Gus. You're the one who said we had to get back by tomorrow."

"Fine," Gus climbed in the driver's seat and started the engine. "But you are sitting still and if you make one western-themed comment, you are riding in the trunk."

"How am I going to get back there if I have to sit still?"

Gus sighed. It was going to be a long ride back to Santa Barbara. They might just have to stop for a Snickers bar before they hit the interstate.


End file.
